Psychosis and Amnesia
by Virtual Gamer
Summary: Though Pip did not die from Mecha-Streisand, he had been left with mental trauma. When he sees something that isn't truly there, it earns him an unexpected blow to the head, and as a result, amnesia. Will he have assistance getting through it, or will he lose himself?
1. Psychosis

Temporary Amnesia au

_Though Pip did not die from Mecha-Streisand, he had been left with mental trauma. When he sees something that isn't truly there, it earns him an unexpected blow to the head, and as a result, amnesia. Will he have assistance getting through it, or will he lose himself?_

* * *

It had been very common for Pip to go through a sort of...relapse. Ever since the day he was nine, in South Park, he could walk down the street and see a mecha-monster coming towards him. He could hardly remember the situation in its entirety, or how it all started, or the motive for charging in as recklessly as he had. But he couldn't stop it now; couldn't change anything he had done.

As a result, it had left him with several mental complications. When he would see things that were out of the ordinary, he couldn't just brush it off as 'a normal occurrence', for he had not lived in South Park for a while after his near-death experience. Giant robots lurking down the streets of London was not something that happened every day.

Though, things had only gotten worse when he had moved back to the small mountain town, where he couldn't brush the sense of dread from his shoulders. He was sure it would always be there, but his therapist had suggested he move back, if only for the summer, to overcome the fears, and demons of sorts.

Speaking of demons; since his return, he hadn't seen the giant robot monster down the streets, but rather shadows. Apparitions, of sorts. Demonic ones.

How familiar they seemed, though so distant. Like a memory that wasn't his, but rather one he had seen in a movie.

Which is all he brushed it off as, at first. Until, that is, he sees one in the middle of the night, on a particularly cold and wet evening. It is much larger than he had remembered them being. And he has seen them many a time, just floating down the streets or in the windows of buildings, every night he has been here for the past month.

But this one. This one, has him stalling in the street. He gave these looks to any pedestrians passing by, who only seemed to give him harsh glares, or a snide remark of sorts.

A couple even walked right through it. But it didn't seem to notice, and it was only moving towards Pip. Slowly. And Pip is completely certain it's there, and after him.

There's panic in his throat, and he can feel the anxiety build up in his gut at the sight. It has him turning on a heel to run, but the patch of ice does not let him get far. He slips, right to the middle of the road.

And it's a blur again. So familiar, a decade later.

Another metal monster, coming his way. In the nighttime air.

Charging at him.

There's an impact-he can feel it just as he had all those years ago.

The darkness that follows is just as familiar.


	2. Amnesia

Temporary Amnesia au

* * *

When he opened his eyes, he had to quickly adjust by closing them once more, tighter than before. The light was unbearable, and the glimpse of white walls did not make the process of adjusting to it any easier.

Somewhere, in the back of his head, this all felt familiar. A deja vu, of sorts. But he couldn't put his finger on it.

When the door opened to his room, Pip opened his eyes to glance over at the nurse. It hurt to look, but he wanted to see. He couldn't even put his finger on the reason.

"It is good to see you are awake, Mister Pirrup!" The nurse chirped, a bit too happily for what Pip to consider being more than just a facade of sorts. Even if it was genuine, it didn't sound it. "You have been unconscious for two days. How are you feeling?"

He shifted a little, uncomfortably so. He felt bruised and sore, and he wasn't sure why. He closed his eyes to save them from the light.

"I don't know...I ache, and...my head. it feels absolutely dreadful." The nurse walked up closer to adjust the morphine in his arm, to give him more relief from the pain.

"I could imagine! It has only been about ten hours since you arrived here from a car accident. You're a peculiar case, you know. The truck driver said he had been going over 40 mph before he even noticed you were in the street! Said that he did not get a chance to slow down much, and yet you still only managed a concussion and a few contusions at most. Not a single broken bone!"

He was confused by that, and when he went to ask, the nurse had already left the room. At least she had been kind enough to turn the lights off, though, to save him from more pain in his head. He was at least able to keep his eyes open without having to squint.

Though, the longer he stayed there, the less he remembered, until the mention of no broken bones stuck in his head.

Even the memory of a headache was nonexistent.

He simply stared at the ceiling, like the answer was there; like it would tell him why he was in the hospital to begin with. But no answer came.

And with no answer, he settled for sitting up and peer around. The slight movement, alone, caused a sharp pain to shoot up his arm, and with a hiss, he looked down to see the IV still in his arm. Though he couldn't recall what that was for, he knew better than to take it out, so he simply sat up against the pillows.

...For his eyes to fall to one of those demonic shadows, floating in front of his bed. There was only one, and it was not big, at all-about the size of his forearm at most.

His shoulders never seized as they had before. He didn't even seem to react as he had with the previous ones, where he had ignored them. Instead, he genuinely studied this one, as though he had never seen anything like it.

It was eyeless, and nothing like a human's figure, save for arms. There was no distinct head, other than where a faded spot formed, that hardly moved. He tilted his head a little, like a new angle would get him to figure out what it was, exactly. And with the movement, the apparition did the same.

With a tilt of his head to the other side, it followed the movement. With a lift of his hand, it lifted the same, one, and it only stopped when he lifted his other arm.

That pain again. Pip glances at his arm in surprise when he saw the IV in his arm. When had that gotten there? He didn't bother pondering it longer than he had before. He glanced up at the apparition again, and it had only grown closer to him, now hover over where his feet were.

Its mouth was in a frown, in a sort of (what he had supposed to be) dejected expression. He stared at it a bit longer, lifting a hand to it. This time, it didn't mirror his movements, and instead, floated back enough to be completely out of reach. His voice died in his throat, but he went to grab for it, to move closer. But there was an unknown pain in his arm.

And a grunt at the door. Pip's eyes immediately went there, instead of to the small, ghostly figure. The doctor seemed disapproving, eyes narrowed as though he were being dissected on the bed. He timidly lowers his arm, shrinking back to the pillows behind him.

"Mister Pirrup. Says here you were involved with a car accident. No fractures, no broken bones, slight internal bleeding-but nothing to be concerned with. Now that you are up, we are going to do some testing. Please turn so your legs are off the edge of the bed."

The teen hesitates, and visibly at that. He glances at the ghost, but it's no longer there. The doctor knocks him out of his thoughts by clearing his throat and turns the lights on. Pip blinks the light away, and though he can feel the headache rapidly returning, he quickly nodded as he carefully shifted to let his legs dangle off the edge of the bed, as instructed. The doctor sat in a chair in front of him and checked his pulse, checked his reflexes, the dilation of his eyes, and asked how many fingers he had been holding up.

"Everything seems to be all okay. Your nurse said you had been experiencing pain in your head. Has that eased?"

Pip shook his head slowly, clearly confused. "It wasn't present until you walked in and turned the lights on. But...You must be mistaking me with someone else; no nurse walked in here."

The doctor gave this incredulous look and wrote something down on the clipboard. "Do you know what day it is today, Philip?"

He spent a good moment trying to recall. Eventually, he shook his head. "What about what month it is?" He gave another shake of his head, and the doctor scribbled down more notes. "How old are you, Philip?"

Pip gave this questioning look, because it was obvious to him, as though he had been asked what month his birthday was. "18, sir."

There was a pause in the hand, and more notes were jotted down. "Your birthday was a couple months back. You're 19." He glances up at Pip over his glasses. "Do you remember why you came to the United States?"

He was quiet for a while, before laughing a bit nervously. "The United States? I have not been there since I was a child. Since I was…" He trailed off when the doctor gave him this unamused look. "Oh. Wait, I'm in there-here, now? Since when?"

Pip was given another unamused look, followed by a long, drawn out sigh. Several questions later, and the doctor stood from his chair. "Stay right here. I have reason to believe you have mild amnesia, most likely short-term, especially if you were able to say who the current president is, and where you had previously lived before coming to America. I will be sure your therapist knows, and I shall let you go home in the morning."

The man excused himself from the room, and Pip felt as though he had just been punched in the gut. Not even from the pain from external bruising, either. He felt winded, in a sense. Like he couldn't suck in all the air he needed, even when he was breathing in as deeply and quickly as he could.

He was given a start when the pain flooded his arm. It didn't make any sense. The pain made his head swim, and he was nearly choking on air. That is, until his eyes fell on a shadow in front of him...


	3. Nothingness

Temporary Amnesia AU

It had been nearly two days since he returned home from the hospital. Or, so his journal had stated. His therapist and the doctor had seemingly discussed the issue at hand, and the nurse, being as kind as she had been, overheard the conversation in fragments. She had ultimately been the one to write the words 'buy a journal, and write down everything' on the palm of his hand.

Which he had done. And was ever grateful for it, as well, for he hadn't even recalled how he had gotten home, beyond a scribbled paragraph to himself of how he had been flustered when he could not tell the taxi driver where he lived, nor where he was currently residing, until he had been instructed to look into it via the hospital papers in hand.

Within the journal, on the very first tabbed page, was a growing list of processes he was setting, as to be sure he did not forget any minor details, such as the apartment key hanging from a chain around his neck, to where he would diligently place his wallet as instructed from a sticky-note on the wall next to his coat hanger. It had taken time, but he had set up a system as instructed by his therapist.

Who, according to his journal, had attempted a flight to the United States, only to have been killed in a car accident on his way from the airport and into South Park. It had been written in red ink, though the purpose behind it was lost to Pip. But it stood out well enough for him to recall that he was alone.

And alone he remained, secluded in his apartment as long as he could. His head yet to cease its aching without the proper use of the pain medication he had been prescribed by the doctor, and his entire left side was tender and bruised. And there was very little he could do to keep his mind focused, which often times left him to remain on the couch to watch shows and movies he would not remember by the end of the hour.

Though, in a sense, he was never too alone, for that shadow remained in the room he would be in. It always seemed to stay in his line of vision, and it was oddly comforting to Pip, for there were several entries stating how it always remained close, and how it seemed to be a constant.

His only constant in life, as of late.

"I remember you," Pip mused aloud to the little demonic ghost. "I remember that you used to hang around here and there in London. I was the only one who could see you. I bet that's what is happening now, isn't it?" He looked over at the little ghost, and it looked at him, but never once made a noise, nor any sort of confirmation.

He wrote down, almost word for word, what he had just said. If nothing else, it would be a bit of comfort when he were to review the journal at a later point.

"I believed I was absolutely mad because of you. Off my rocker. Though, you seem to be the only one physically here for me. And I do sincerely appreciate it."

The ghost said nothing. Did nothing. Just as it always did. But Pip smiled anyway, because at the very least, he did remember that. And in a world full of temporary memories, it was satisfying to have a single strand a partially solidified and ongoing memory. 


End file.
